


It's Okay to Cry Saeran...

by DragonMarker



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Brothers bonding, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Mentions of Suicide, Saeran just needs a hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempts, everything is platonic, how does one tag, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24635551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonMarker/pseuds/DragonMarker
Summary: He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. Pacing back and forth in his basement room, Saeran thread his fingers through his hair. His hands were shaking. Dear god. He wasn’t nice. He didn’t pretend to be. Saeyoung didn’t seem to care though. If only he would lash out, give him a reason to self destruct- prove that Saeran meant nothing to him. Maybe if that happened he could justify all his panic.But no.Saeyoung was dead set on proving he cared, being kind and caring. Never forcing and always open. No matter how much he pushed, how hard he pushed, he found Seayoung pushing right back. Saeran didn’t know what to do with it. What was he supposed to do with it? He could take insults, he could take punches, he could take almost anything but, kindness? That was a ballpark he was unfamiliar with. All his life he was treated with harsh forceful hands.
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel & Choi Saeran, Implied 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 61





	It's Okay to Cry Saeran...

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! I'm so excited to post for this fandom. I've had this idea floating in my brain for so long and I'm happy to finally have it out there at a stage I'm happy with. I just love the twins bonding, it makes my heart melt. These two boys have been through so much. With that said there are so very brutal parts in the story so if you are sensitive to suicide and child abuse I wouldn't very well recommend this as it portrays majorly to my small one-shot plot. Now that I've got that warning out of the way I hope you all can enjoy what I have to offer to the Mystic Messenger fandom!
> 
> One more thing, if you spot any errors portraying to tenses, grammar or, anything else, please don't be shy to point it out- feedback is a great help!

Saeran couldn’t understand. His head was spinning and he felt so, so dizzy. His mind was a mess and he knew he was on the verge of a panic attack, scratch that, he was having a panic attack. But he couldn’t slow his thoughts even if he wanted to. It was calm and slow. Too calm and slow at Lucie- Saeyoung’s house.

He couldn’t help but fear something was going to happen soon. He could help but brace himself for the shoe to fall but the longer he tensed the more he panicked. The more he found it harder and harder to brace and he didn’t want to loosen up because what if he did? What if the exact moment he unbraced life's blows would land and he would be unprepared and defenseless? Just like a child. Just like _how he was_ as a child.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. Pacing back and forth in his basement room, Saeran thread his fingers through his hair. His hands were shaking. Dear god. He wasn’t nice. He didn’t pretend to be. Saeyoung didn’t seem to care though. If only he would lash out, give him a reason to self destruct- prove that Saeran meant nothing to him. Maybe if that happened he could justify all his panic.

But no. 

Saeyoung was dead set on proving he cared, being kind and caring. Never forcing and always open. No matter how much he pushed, how hard he pushed, he found Seayoung pushing right back. Saeran didn’t know what to do with it. What was he _supposed_ to do with it? He could take insults, he could take punches, he could take almost anything but, kindness? That was a ballpark he was unfamiliar with. All his life he was treated with harsh forceful hands. 

In his darkest of moments he could still feel the chafing rope would leave on his wrists. The pangs of hunger that racked his body and coughs that scraped his dry throat. He could almost feel them right now. A poisonous liquid being forced down his throat as he’s being shoved onto his knees.

He’d like to think it made him tough. 

Insensitive to pain. 

Cold.

Brutal even. 

He had killed for Rika. Savior. Whatever she was called now. Living in the same house as MC, Vanderwood and, Luci- Saeyoung, had made him weak. He felt himself pondering what he had done, what he had gone through, so much more. He found himself shaking for no reason, close to crying from nothing at all. He didn’t know what to do when MC would call out for a family dinner. Or when Saeyoung invited him to join them for a movie night. He didn’t know how to react when one of them would lean in for a hug or smile so easily. He could only smile that easily when Ray was in control and he found that he was showing up less and less through the years.

Not that he cared. He liked being in control and Ray was too sensitive anyways. Not that he had any right to calling the other sensitive at the moment. He found his fingers tugging on the edges of his hair. It pulled and stung his scalp sending out a wave of sharp pain. He noticed he had stopped pacing. He stood still in the center of the room. He let go of his hair with one sharp tug that pulled a gasp from his lungs. It hurt but it slowed his thinking. 

He didn’t know what to do. He was at a standstill with everything moving too fast. _He_ was moving too fast. He was vibrating with energy he didn’t know how to release. Shaking and trembling and pathetically helpless. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He was drowning in self pity and hated himself for it, shedding more tears into the pool slowly drowning him. 

Why could he just shrug it off and keep walking? Why couldn’t he feel like it was fine for him to be there? Why couldn’t he believe Saeyoung cared? He proved it. Over and over. Time and time again. He did believe it but at the same time was too scared to. He had all the proof that he needed. But his heart still raced at the idea it was all fake. All an illusion. A punishment from Savior, Rika, for something he did wrong. What did he do wrong? _Did_ he do anything wrong?

“Damn It!’ Saeran whipped around throwing his fists onto his bed sheets, knees thudding to the ground. He didn’t care if that came out louder than intended, or if his knees hitting the floor shot slivers of pain through his body. Maybe no one in this house cared. Maybe none of it was real and he was just dreaming. If he learned anything from Mint Eye it was not to trust. Yourself, your comrades. Your family. He was alone.

Floating on an island with the sea slowly rising.

He couldn’t feel tears, if he was shedding any. Still leaning over his bed he unclentched his fist and brought them to his eyes to check. If he wasn’t being punished before he surely would be if he was caught crying. Savior always said tears were worthless. Unnecessary and a sign of weakness. He wasn’t weak. He _wasn’t_. He didn’t feel any tears. He let out a sigh. At least he still had some control.

He stayed hunched over his bed. He didn’t know how long. This time instead of endless quick thoughts, none came to mind. He was stuck in an aching silence. He couldn’t think. He’d form a thought and never finish it. He didn’t even know the thoughts he was forming before they left his mind. Suffocating him in a soundless room. It rang so loud it made his ears ring but even rustling his sheets he couldn’t make a noise loud enough to make the silence flee.

He let out a strangled cry, flinging his face onto the mattress to muffle it. Why? Why was he like this? What was he thinking? Why couldn’t he think? Why was he like what he was like? 

The last one rang in his head. Playing over and over again. He could end it. Save himself from everything. No more Savior, no more punishments. No more anything. But that wasn’t right, not just in the fact of what the thought itself was but, if all of this was real. MC caring. Saeyoung caring. Him being rescued. If all of that was real, then what? Keep drowning in things he didn’t understand? Things he might never understand? 

Things he _couldn’t even wrap his mind around_ after so many years of being controlled and blaming his brother?

He didn’t know what was real anymore. He didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t even bring himself to care about the fact that he didn’t care. He was tired. If he took himself off the playing board then life would never have to land its blow. He wouldn’t have to keep bracing, he wouldn’t have to suffer whenever the shoe fell. He wouldn’t have to struggle to understand all the things around him, reality or not.

He wouldn’t have to try and comprehend Saeyoungs care or apologies or anything else he threw at him that Saeran _just couldn’t_ understand. He wouldn’t have to deal with any of it. None of it, ever again and they wouldn’t have to deal with him and all his rude comments. All his harsh words and crude actions. They wouldn’t have to send him concerned glances whenever he started to randomly tremble. Glances laced with concern he didn’t understand or want. They wouldn’t have to invite him to spend time with them because he couldn’t help but feel like a third wheel or an imposing character that didn’t belong. He had enough pity from himself, he didn’t need theirs too.

He could just,

**_go away_ ** **.**

He had a pistol under his mattress Saeyoung didn’t know about. It would only take one bullet. One shot. A quick blow to the brain and he would be gone. No more thoughts or confusion, pain or misunderstandings. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared but he dared not let it show because, _damn it,_ he was stronger than that. 

He lifted his mattress enough to see the glinting silver of the gun hidden beneath. With a shaking pale hand he reached out and grasped the cold metal weapon. It was heavy in his hands as he placed it on the bed in front of him. 

Why hadn’t he just shot himself while it was in his hand, why was he being a wimp? Why was he taking so long? He already gave himself several reasons to do it. He already convinced himself this was the best, quickest, ironically safest, route. So why couldn’t he pick it up again and pull the trigger?

Because even if he didn’t feel he belonged. Even if he didn’t feel quite right in Saeyoung and MCs family picture, even if he didn’t or couldn’t ever understand _why_ they cared. Or _why_ they shot him glances he couldn’t decipher, or _why_ they constantly tried to include him in their small mundane activities.

He liked it. 

He _liked_ being around all the kindness, all the things he didn’t understand, all the things that set him off and made him nervous. All the things he wasn’t quite certain were real. All the things, _all of them_. He liked all of them. It was scary and unfair. Why couldn’t he like them and do just that, like them? Why couldn’t he like them and not be scared of them because he knew with how much he liked them he couldn’t have them? Why couldn’t he like them and not fear that they may or may not be real? Why couldn’t he like them and feel like he was just fine? He fit in just fine. Why couldn’t he let himself like them? Why was he so scared of them? So scared of liking them? 

“I hate this…” He mumbled, as much as he would deny it to anyone who asked, with a cracking voice. Folding his knees properly beneath him he sat up straighter. Inhaling a deep calming breath of finality he didn’t exactly have. He kept going over all his memories, replaying them in his head on loop, some more than others. He still hadn’t cried and that sent a small thrilling shiver of twisted pride through his body. While contomplaiting suicide, Saeran Choi, had not cried. 

How absolutly _demented_?

He let out a bitter chuckle sniffling a bit because even if he wasn’t crying his nose was beginning to get stuffy.

Slowly he reached out his hand for the gun. His pale skin basked in yellow light from the bulb just above him. It was sickly and white and creamy, like porcelain, gone red and raw at his elbows and knuckles. His hands shook ferociously. He glared and let out a low grow at them. “Stupid…” He hissed. Anger bubbling at his lack of control. He was so weak he couldn’t even stop trembling. You’d think from all his life lessons he’d learn to stop being so weak. He didn’t want to be weak.

He grasped the steal after what felt like ages of reaching. His hand no longer shook as much from the new weight stuck in his sweaty hand. He hissed at himself, angry. Why was this taking so long? Was he stalling? Why was he stalling? In a flurry of anger he swiftly pulled the gun to his head. Yanking his hand so harshly that made his wrist and shoulder shout in pain at him. The ever cool steel was pressed to his temple. He could feel the power radiating off the weapon as it was pressed so closely to him. It made him feel like he was flying with the adrenaline coursing through his body and all the beats his heart skipped.

He let out a twisted laugh. Curling in on himself as a sick joy flooded through his blood. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, he didn’t know. He kept cackling, the gun still pressed harshly into his temple as he rocked back and forth on his knees. He could feel the carpet licking his jeans.

Something started to slide down his cheeks, pouring from his eyes and landing on his pants. He threw his head back. Looks like he was crying after all. “ How pathetic…” He spit at himself in a dark wet sick tone that didn’t match his manic laughing. Of course _now_ he was crying. Guess he couldn’t say he tried to kill himself without crying. Not that he planned living through it to brag about it.

He stopped laughing. One second manically cackling at the top of his lungs, the next second nothing. Not a sound. Just tears strolling down his face as he leaned backwards, pistol pressed to his brain. He let his hand fall. It was too heavy to hold up with even its own weight now. It hurt when it hit the carpet but Saeran felt too empty to care. His grip loosened on the gun. He threw his head forward again, sowly, so he was hunched over. Shoulders caving in. As if his shoulder were walls caging him in and protecting him from the world outside.

He couldn’t do it. No matter how many reasons he gave himself, no matter how much he convinced himself he couldn’t pull the trigger. Maybe he was selfish? No. He was selfish. He was a terrible, horrible person.

And he couldn’t even get rid of himself for the sake of all the good people around him. God, wasn’t he a pathetic sight. 

His door opened.

“Saeran!” He heard his name shouted before a thudding of quick and many steps reached his side and the gun was yanked from his lackluster hand. He heard it land softly somewhere further in the room. It must have fallen on the carpet. Somehow, he found himself oddly calm. Distant, maybe, was a better word. Like he was high above the whole situation. Beyond it and not in a state to actually feel it.

Hands, trembling hands, gripped his shoulder firmly but not to a painful point. He was spun to the side, meeting orange eyes. Suddenly he was present. Oh no. _God no_. He was pulled down from where he flew with a heavy sensation falling onto his chest as the reality of the situation slowly sank into place. Saeyoung was in front of him. He was talking- shouting? Words Saeran couldn’t hear. He watched as crystal tears fell from his brother's amber eyes. He didn’t even know how to begin explaining that he couldn’t do it. He didn’t think he could anyways.

“You don't think?” 

Maybe his ears and mouth did work then. He bit his lip to stop any further unintentional words escape that would further dig a grave he wasn’t keen on entering. The pain in his bottom lip seemed to further ground him. A small amount of anger grew inside of him as he came back to himself.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Saeran bit out. He meant for it to come out harshly but it came out much softer and desperate than he wanted and he glared at himself, biting his lip a little harder than necessary. He was _not_ a cornered animal, he was _not_ weak, he was _not_ vulnerable and he would _never be_ , least of all in front of Saeyoung.

“What the hell am I- What the hell were you going to do? What were you thinking? Saeran you scared the shit out of me! I thought you might have been _dead_!”

Saeran huffed and tossed his head to the side. He couldn’t meet his gaze. Maybe he should’ve just pulled the trigger while he had the chance. He bit his lip and shot a glance at his brother to be sure he didn’t say that out loud but all he saw when he turned his head was a very concerned brother hovering above him with a look in his eyes that Saeran could not understand. Or maybe just didn’t feel worthy of it. Or maybe it wasn’t even real. He tossed his head away again.

He heard a long sigh escape Saeyoung's lips before one of the heavy hands on his shoulder was lifted. He felt it again softly pressed to his cheek, whipping away the salty tracks that still remained there. He was glad to see he was no longer crying but the touch only made him want to hunch his shoulders and turn further.

“Saeran, you have to let me in. I’m here for you. I want to be there for you. You just have to let me.” He knew his brother was good at masking his tones, weaving words to come off in a different way than what he meant but he made no such attempt at masking his desperation, _his plea_ , In those words. It almost made him consider.

He just hiked his shoulders higher to the point they rubbed the edges of his ears and drew his sluggish arms to wrap around his waist. Why was he always like this? Always so vulnerable. Always around Saeyoung. He’s always seen him at his worst, he remembers him always trying to uplift his spirits. Sneaking him food, untying him by night to stargaze. He remembers being convinced he was abandoned by him. He remembers it so well.

“This isn’t real.” He mumbles to himself. His nails bite harshly into his sides. His shirt provides no guard against the pain. He keeps his head bowed as he mumbles the word. He doesn’t want to see Saeyoungs face. He doesn’t want to be told it is real because if it is that means a whole new set of problems will come to light. And he can’t- _He can’t_ \- 

He can’t think much longer before a hand at the back of his head forces him forward into a crushing hug as another hand snakes around to his back and holds him in place. He doesn’t think to struggle. He doesn’t have time too because it's so warm and it's been so long and he’s being held by his brother. Nothing is dividing them. No rope or room or drug or shield. He feels his eyes well up again and he wants to be angry so badly but he just can't. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to worry about that. It's real. All of it and I’ve got you. So don’t be afraid to cry. Okay? Because we can get through this and I’ll make sure you do. If it's the last thing I do. You got that?” And it’s all Saeran can do is nod his face pressed into his brothers shoulder as fat droplets of water fall from his eyes. He moves his hands to hold onto his brother too. He doesn’t make a sound as he cries but that's okay because even if he hasn’t properly cried in a very long time he’s crying now and it's okay.

He’s not going to be hurt for being weak, or forced to do things he doesn’t want too, or starved, or punished. Maybe he’ll be embarrassed by this later and maybe he’ll blush madly about it when his brother teases him about it, but it's real and he will get through this. And his brother is going to help him with it. He doesn’t have to be so scared anymore, at least in this moment. Even if he never says it, this second, Saeran is certain he believes his brother. For the first time he understands _care._ And if in the future he acts a little nicer well, it's just him getting better.

Sure not everything is solved right now and there’s still going to be bumps and bad days but he can, and will, get through it. He has _real_ , supportive, caring, people in his life now and he doesn’t have to sink on this island alone anymore. In the distance he can see the RFA in a life boat heading his direction. So for this moment, he lets himself clutch to the back of his brother's shirt and sob into his shoulder. And Saeyoung doesn’t say a thing as a wet patch grows on his shirt just as Saeran doesn’t say a thing when salty droplets land on his head.


End file.
